


Every Which Way But Bruce

by Erin_ORiordan_Was_Here



Category: Bob's Burgers (Cartoon)
Genre: First Time, High School, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-16
Updated: 2019-04-16
Packaged: 2020-01-15 02:14:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18489196
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Erin_ORiordan_Was_Here/pseuds/Erin_ORiordan_Was_Here
Summary: High school senior Bob Belcher goes to a party on King's Head Island. Bob is drunk and wandering around his classmate's house when he stumbles upon another classmate, a kid whose name he thinks is James something...It's Jimmy Pesto.





	Every Which Way But Bruce

**Author's Note:**

> Note: Sexually-active characters are both 18 years old.
> 
> Inspired by this post: http://thatwritererinoriordan.tumblr.com/post/183425438680/lgbtbobsburgersheadcanons-bob-and-jimmy-went

Bob was drunk. 

He vaguely remembered arriving at Bruce Johansson’s 18th birthday party, downing a few warm beers and taking shots offered to him as he heroically prepared ham-and-cheese melts for Bruce’s drunken, starving guests. He thought one of those ham-crazed guests was Barbara Bunkley, and he may have made out with her in the butler’s pantry.

Even if that makeout session had been a sweet, drunken hallucination, he’d definitely wandered around Bruce’s parents’ huge house on King’s Head Island until he finally, mercifully, found a bathroom.

After a good, long pee, Bob felt like having another drink. But he couldn’t find the staircase; maybe it was behind one of these doors?

He pushed open a sturdy wooden door and entered a large, spacious room. At its center was a pool table. Up against one wall – the wall opposite a bank of enormous windows looking out over the back yard – a black leather sofa held a boy who appeared to be sleeping.

With the boy’s face turned toward the back of the sofa, it was hard to tell if Bob knew him or not, but Bob guessed he was a boy from school. The mass of unruly brown hair on his head looked familiar. If they weren’t classmates, then maybe Bob had served him in the restaurant.

The boy turned suddenly, wide awake, staring straight at Bob. Maybe he wasn’t sleeping it off after all. Bob did recognize him from school – James something. No, he went by Jimmy. In their senior year, Jimmy already looked less like a boy who should have such a childish nickname and more like a man. A man whose thick, too-long, chestnut-brown hair fell around his square jaw and drew attention to his cleft chin.

Handsome, Bob thought. He followed this by thinking wow, I must really be drunk.

“You’re not Bruce,” the boy – Jimmy – said.

Bob chuckled. “No, I’m Bob. Am I supposed to be Bruce?”

“Yes,” Jimmy said sharply. “I mean, no. Bruce and I were going to...play pool. Yeah, just play pool together. Nothing else.”

“Ooooo-kay,” Bob said, his suspicion aroused. Whatever Jimmy had really been waiting for Bruce for, he sure sounded disappointed that Bob wasn’t Bruce.

“You haven’t seen Bruce, have you?” Jimmy sat up, shifting on the sofa’s leather cushions.

“Maybe,” Bob said. “I don’t really remember seeing him, but I’m a little drunk.”

“You’re wasted,” Jimmy observed.

“I’m not wasted.” Bob didn’t feel wasted, just buzzed, slightly lost, and a little horny, if he thought about Barbara Bunkley. “You’re wasted. You’re the one passed out on the sofa.”

“I am not passed out on a sofa,” Jimmy said. His voice came out a little high, which Bob for some reason found charming. “I am sitting up and talking to you! That is the very definition of NOT passed out!”

Bob waved his hands dismissively. “I don’t care, Jimmy. I was just looking for the stairs. Have you seen them?”

Jimmy looked quizzical. “You know my name?”

“Yes, Jimmy. We go to school together. We’re in the same class. I think we had P.E. together sophomore year.”

“We did,” Jimmy said, sounding wistful. “That was the year Steve Pescadero had that ponytail and you were guarding him in basketball and he pivoted and his whole ponytail went in your mouth.”

“It wasn’t his whole ponytail, Jimmy. It was just ... a lot ... of Steve Pescadero’s hair. And he used conditioner that day.”

Jimmy laughed. Bob laughed too. 

“I remember that,” Jimmy said, “but I didn’t think you remembered me. I didn’t think you knew my name.”

Disarmed, Bob sat down on the arm of the kitchen sofa. “I do.” he looked around the big room, lined on two sides with shelves that held plastic storage bins. “What is this place?”

“It’s Bruce’s dad’s man cave. We’re above the garage. There is a set of stairs through that white door, but it goes outside, into the back yard.”

“That’s okay,” Bob said. “I don’t need to go downstairs that badly. Since Bruce didn’t show up, do you want to play pool with me?”

Jimmy laughed, a sharp sound like a bark. “Can I tell you something, Bob? If I do, you can’t tell anybody else from school. Or anybody else. You can’t even tell Bruce that you know.”

“I won’t,” Bob said. 

“Bruce and I don’t come up here to play pool. The last two times Bruce’s dad went out of town on business trips, Bruce and I came up here to make out.”

Bob couldn’t help but chuckle a little. He’d suspected something like that. Not that he minded. Bob had long suspected he himself was mostly straight but not completely. 

“Do you want to make out with me?” Bob asked, looking down at Jimmy.

Jimmy’s answer was to put his arms around Bob, pull him down onto the black leather cushions of the couch, and kiss him. Despite his insistence that he wasn’t wasted, Jimmy’s mouth tasted like those shots the kitchen kids kept passing to Bob. 

Bob’s mind was swimming – this felt good, and he didn’t want to stop – and when he paid attention to where his hands were he found them on Jimmy’s back. Touch his butt, a voice in Bob’s head told him. Bob touched Jimmy’s butt and Jimmy moaned. 

Bob liked that. He lost track of time, place, and Jimmy’s hand while they made out, grinding against each other. Then Jimmy said, “I wanna make you come.” Bob heard a zipper and realized it was his own. He looked down to watch Jimmy playing with Bob’s dick. 

It only took him a few minutes to come. It didn’t bother him at all that Jimmy was another boy. He wanted to make Jimmy come too. He reached for Jimmy’s zipper and Jimmy made no objection. Jimmy’s dick was big; Bob was impressed. He touched Jimmy the way he liked to touch himself, and Jimmy came even quicker than Bob did. 

Jimmy’s eyes were half-closed and looked dreamy and far-away. Bob kissed him one more time. He started to back away, but Jimmy pulled him back. “You’re still hard,” Jimmy said. “Wanna do what Bruce won’t do?”

“What won’t Bruce do?” Bob asked, intrigued. This was already the best party he’d ever been to; what else could there be?

Jimmy got up and opened one of those plastic storage bins. It appeared to be filled with baseball equipment. Jimmy took out a baseball glove and turned it upright. A small jar of Vaseline fell into his hand. “Butt stuff,” he said.

Bob laughed. “That’s your hiding place? What happens if Bruce’s dad wants to play baseball and takes out that baseball glove?”

“That’s Bruce’s problem,” Jimmy said. “So, do you want to?”

“Yeah,” Bob said. Jimmy handed Bob the jar and leaned over the arm of the couch. “I’ve never done this before, though.”

“You mean with another boy?” Jimmy asked. 

“With anyone,” Bob said. “I am a virgin.”

“Me too,” Jimmy said. “I’m 18 and I don’t want to graduate and still be a virgin. I’ve been trying to get Bruce to do it with me for a month now and he keeps saying he will, but then he just doesn’t show up.”

“Well, I’m here,” Bob said, positioning himself behind Jimmy. “It might as well be the two of us, right?”

“Right,” Jimmy said, his voice low and husky as Bob went from one door to the other, making sure that both of them were locked. He didn’t want Bruce, or any of Bruce’s drunk partygoers, walking in on them. 

Bob returned to his place beside Jimmy and applied the lube. The heat coming off of Jimmy’s body felt good. “I want to do a good job,” Bob said in Jimmy’s ear. “You have to tell me if I hurt you.”

“Yeah,” said Jimmy, and Bob wasn’t sure if he was agreeing, psyching himself up, or both. Bob inhaled, thinking about how Jimmy smelled like weird liquor but also sweat, sunshine, and grass and it really wasn’t bad at all, kind of like being in PE again. Before he realized what was happening, they were fucking and it felt amazing. 

He didn’t want to stop, so he asked, “Are you okay?”

“Fuck yeah,” Jimmy said, breathlessly, which sounded like he really liked this too.

“Oh god,” Bob said, repeating the sentiment over and over until he was sure Jimmy was coming again. Bob, even though he felt like he could keep doing this forever, found he was coming again too. He separated from Jimmy, panting, unable to form any thought other than, “Sex is amazing.”

Jimmy turned to face him. He eyes looked foggy and filled with bliss. “Wow,” he said, “you are definitely not Bruce.”

Bob laughed. Jimmy laughed too, then said quickly, “But we can never let anyone find out about this.”

“I’m not going to tell anyone,” Bob said, thinking who would I tell? He would never let anyone know about this, not even his future wife – or husband. This would be his secret, his and Jimmy’s, forever, even when they were grown men, married with three kids apiece.


End file.
